Flee From Evil Page 5

  All this at the hands of the man who’d pretended to be interested in her dreams and plans, her idealism, making her feel important, wanted, loved … only to use her in the end. Had he really been absorbing her constant chatter on the shores of the inlet as they laid in the sun, listening to the water lap the sand? She flipped the pages again and shook her head. The report looked exactly like something she’d produce if she had the means. How did he know how to do this?

  Surely, they taught it in his divinity courses. She shook off the intimacy of the alternative. Why did she feel so exposed? Something about that man always made her that way. Only before, she’d also felt protected by him. Now, she knew it only made her more vulnerable to his selfish desires.

  She’d never let that happen again.

  Cassandra folded the report in half, then quarters, and stuffed it deep into her bag. She’d have to insert her key into the ignition with wavering fingers. She cranked the reluctant SUV engine. It sputtered as it rolled backwards, out of the space. “Hold on girl. I’ll get you to a doctor soon.” Kat’s husband, Billy, owned a garage. When would Cassandra have the funds to do all of what needed fixing? Just a few more weeks—her first paycheck from Vince—and she might chance a meeting with the repair man.

  The car hummed for a few seconds, giving Cassandra hope, before lapsing into its usual clunking. She calmed before realizing the worst. If Cassandra spent her Sundays checking out other churches without her kids, Mom would be taking them to Water’s Edge. Oh, no no! This would not work. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Probably because her pulse pounded in her ears every time the subject came up. Typical Vince. She could never think straight in his presence. He wormed his way into her brain and made it impossible to see clearly.

  But what harm could he do her kids?

  Plenty. Even though she couldn’t come up with a method at the moment. Still, that man could wrap Attila the Hun around his pinky.

  The car coughed. Cassandra’s shoulders sagged. She had few choices these days. She’d work this job, collect a paycheck … and prepare to deprogram her kids after the brainwashing they’d receive at the instigation of Vince Steegle.

  ~*~

  Vince headed toward the men’s room down the hall, his mind still burning from the meeting with Cass. He couldn’t clear the image of her hatred. It played over and over again as though on unlimited battery life. He needed to consult with someone about this new business arrangement with a woman who couldn’t stand him, but knowing John’s long-time relationship with the family, he also knew it couldn’t be the senior pastor.

  Could Billy Lewis advise him? He was an elder at the church, and Vince’s best friend. Vince shook his head. He knew what Billy would say.

  A large man with dark hair, glasses, and olive skin, stood stock-still inside the glass front doors.

  Vince approached. “Can I help you?”

  The man twisted an envelope in his grip. “I lookeen for Passa Vince.”

  Vince stepped closer. “I’m Pastor Vince.”

  The man’s eyes lit with the grin. He thrust the wrinkled envelope forward.

  Vince took it. He hesitated before lifting the flap to look inside.

  The man nodded for him to proceed.

  Vince unfolded the letter and read:

  Pastor Vince,

  I am the janitor you asked for. I will work very hard for you. I will make you proud, and I love the Bible.

  Amit

  “So, Amit, you love the Bible, huh?”

  The man revealed his crooked teeth with an emphatic nod of the head. “Spessily Pwovers. I wearn quick.”

  Amit must have been dropped off by the home for mentally challenged adults Vince had contacted. “That’s great, Amit. We love the Bible, here, too.” He flipped the envelope back and forth, as well as the page to see if any letterhead could be found. Nothing. Didn’t they usually send a staff member from the home to help acclimate the residents to the position? Vince shrugged. “Okay, Amit, let me show you the janitorial closet.” Vince gestured for the man to follow.

  He jerked forward. “De fear of de Lord is de beginnin’ of knowledge, but fools despise woosdom an’ discpwin.”

  Vince nodded as he strode the corridor. “Very good.”

  “If sinnaws entice ‘ou, do not give in to dem.”

  “Wow. You’ve got a great memory.” Vince figured it was his savant skill. Well, if anyone lost a Bible, they could always grab Amit. It made him think of the end of that Denzel Washington movie.

  Vince opened the small closet, noting all the chemical detergents scattered on the top shelves and cleaning devices littering the floor. Rags, sponges, and scouring pads were piled into a large bin. It’s clear, since looking to transition to The Home residents, church staff had not taken much pride filling in the position. Would this simple man know what to use for what?

  Amit gasped. “Oh no!” He pulled the bleach bottle from next to the ammonia bottle. “No mix. Could die!” He grabbed a few more cleansers and placed them on different levels of the shelves.

  Vince backed against the wall to make room for his task. Amit pulled some sponges from the box and placed them next to the bathroom cleaners. The dust cloths were piled by the spray wax and the toilet brushes by the toilet cleaner.

  Amit clapped his hands, surveyed the new system, and sighed. “Aw bettaw.” He turned to Vince and startled. “’Ou still here?”

  Vince nodded.

  Amit wiggled his fingers as if to make him go away.

  Vince uncrossed his arms.

  “I awganize. Later, I show ‘ou.”

  Vince started to turn.

  “Den ‘ou tell me what nex.”

  “Okay Amit.”

  Vince wasn’t sure what to think, but figured he’d let the guy go, and see what happened. What harm could he do? He glanced to the heavens. “God, I’m giving this over to You.”

  Entering his office, Vince took in the faint scent of Cass’s cologne still lingering in the air. Or was that his imagination? Her presence dogged him everywhere he went since that day she showed up in church. The chair in front of his desk seemed to vibrate from her energy.

  He’d had this crazy fantasy that he’d explain his actions, beg forgiveness, and she’d accept it. He shook his head at the uselessness of the thought. She could never forgive him. He wouldn’t if he were her.

  Vince sat at his desk, fired off a few emails, polished this week’s sermon, and glanced at his watch. An hour had passed, and Amit hadn’t come looking for him. How long did it take the man to organize a closet? He’d better check on him.

  When he’d entered the supply room, the place looked sparse. Nothing tossed here or there, but placed by the way each item was to be used. It even smelled better.

  Vince ran a finger along a shelf and rubbed it with his thumb. No dust. The floor didn’t even have that gritty crunch it usually had when he walked inside.

  But where was the man? Had he disappeared from whence he came?

  Yolanda appeared at the door. “Who’s—? What happened in here?”

  “We finally got someone from The Home. He organized.”

  Her gaze ran the length of the space. “That must be the guy singin’ in the ladies’ room.”

  “His name is Amit.”

  “Well he can come to my house any day.” Her eyebrows see-sawed. “Just don’t let him join the choir.” Yolanda pivoted and headed toward the office.

  Vince stood outside the ladies’ room door propped open with a wringing bucket, and listened to the boisterous voice echo from the tile in song. “Anyone in there?”

  “Juss me, Passa Vince.”

  Vince entered and followed the singing to the far corner stall where shiny black shoes peeked out on the floor through the opened door. Amit, on hands and knees, scrubbed the base of the toilet with a small brush.

  Vince stood over him, hands on hips.

  Amit peeked back then stopped as if caught. “Oh! Uh-oh. I fawgot to tell ‘ou.” He
pointed to the crevices where blackened grout had been replaced by clean surfaces. “Verwy bad. I stawt here.”

  Vince just watched.

  “Lazy men aw soon poor. Hawd workaws get wich.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” Vince couldn’t remember the terms of payment he’d promised The Home.

  “Goss Word.”

  Vince smiled.

  Amit wiggled his fingers for Vince to leave. “Hard work means posperwity. Oney a fool idles away hiss time.”

  “Okay, Amit. I’ll get back to work then.”

  Chapter Six

  Vince didn’t like that twinkle in Billy Lewis’s eye when he looked up from the counter in the office of his auto-repair garage.

  The fu-man-chu bent up. “What brings you here, today, Vince?” There was a definite lilt in his voice, as if he’d expected the visit.

  “Oil change.” Vince didn’t look to see the incredulity likely stretched across his best friend’s face.

  Billy checked his watch. “It hasn’t been a year yet.”

  “You told me to bring it every three months or three-thousand miles.”

  Billy tapped at the keyboard in front of him. “I’ve been telling you that for ten years now, and you still go six, at least. What gives?”

  Obviously, Billy already knew. Vince just couldn’t say the words, so instead he dropped his attention to the grime-covered floor. “You ever clean this place?”

  Billy strolled around the counter and laid a beefy forearm across Vince’s shoulder. “Come on, Vince. Fess up.”

  Vince chewed his lip. “Look, I finally make it in for regular car maintenance and you give me grief.”

  “Fine, let’s get your car on the rack. Give me the keys, and I’ll have it ready for you in a half hour.”

  Vince slapped the fob into the man’s hand, and Billy drove the Elantra into the shop. “I got it from here. Have a seat in the waiting room.”

  Vince didn’t move from the concrete floor of the bay as Billy stepped out of the car. Billy shook his head. “It’s the woman isn’t it?”

  “What woman?”

  Billy squinted. “Just cuz I don’t got your high-priced education doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  Vince glared back. “Enough with the ‘dumb-redneck-pride’ junk and help me out, here.”

  Here it comes. “What do ya mean ‘dumb red-neck pride?’” Billy looked about to pounce.

  “That’s where you get all offended ’cause I insulted your intelligence, then puffed up because you know you have more common sense than the book-learnin’ dude.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “You do it all the time, Billy.”

  “Do not.”

  “Come on, Billy. Can’t you see I’m having a hard time?”

  Billy’s head shook. “That’s what I’ve been saying. You’re the one denying it.”

  “Fine. You’re smarter than I am. Okay?”

  Billy’s chest lifted. “Nah. Just got more common sense.”

  Vince sagged his shoulders.

  “Sorry, man.” Billy rolled his hands in a move-along gesture. “Empty up. You obviously need something.”

  “I’m not sure I can put words to it.” Vince leaned against a greasy work table, only to get his tan Dockers smudged.

  “How about the full-on truth.”

  “You can’t say anything to Kat.”

  Billy stilled and stared. Vince almost snapped his fingers in front of the man’s eyes to see if he was still awake.

  Finally he spoke. “Do you seriously believe you can keep anything from that woman? She’s like an x-ray machine on steroids. Don’t even try to hide information from her. Once she sniffs blood, she hones in for the kill. You know how she hates secrets. Even her own.” He grimaced. “Not to mention mine.”

  “That’s because she thinks everyone is as non-judgmental as she is.” Vince sighed. “Which is why I need to talk to you. I’ll shield myself from her later.”

  Billy grimaced. “Good luck.” The facial hair bent. “So tell me ‘bout the red-head.”

  “Auburn.”

  “Fine. Auuuuuburn,” he elaborated in a stuffy accent.

  Vince rubbed his goatee.

  Billy pulled a rag from his back pocket and handed it to Vince. “Got grease on your face.”

  Great. “I knew her from the country club.” He wiped at his cheek.

  Billy pointed to the other side of his face. “Figured that. She had a sort of uppity air.”

  Vince shook his head. “That’s only ’cause she hates me. She was a waitress there.”

  “Wow, Vince. I didn’t think it was possible for a female to hate you.”

  “Oh, it’s possible. She’s the president of the ‘Hate Vince’ Fan club.”

  “What’d’ya do to her.”

  “She’s the one I told you about before.”

  Billy whistled. “Oooooh. That one.”

  “Yeah.”

  Billy took back the rag from Vince and wiped his fingers as if removing Vince’s stain from them. “Sorry to hear that, man.”

  “I don’t know what to do about it. She’s Greta Hessing’s daughter.”

  “Well, maybe she won’t come back to church, and you won’t have to do anything.”

  Vince rolled a stray bolt on the floor with the toe of his loafer. “Except that I sort of hired her to develop the special needs program.” He winced.

  Billy had that staring look again, complete with open mouth.

  This time Vince did snap his fingers. “Billy?”

  “You what?”

  “I hired her to coordinate the special needs program.” Vince’s voice came out like a little-boy confession.

  “Why, on God’s green earth, would you do such a thing.”

  “Your wife made me.”

  “You’re blaming this on Kat?”

  Vince waved his hands in the air. “We were at the shop. Kat found out she needed a job and had the right experience. She sort of cornered me. Gave me those eyes she does when you know she won’t let something go.”

  Billy expelled a burst of air. “Yeah, I know that look. Sorry, man. So what are you going to do?”

  “Well, I finagled it so she could work from home. She came to me with a plan that wouldn’t require us getting together much.”

  “Glad I wasn’t a fly on that wall.”

  “Tell me about it. I barely breathed.”

  “So she’s really going to be the coordinator?”

  “Yep.” The word came from the side of his mouth.

  “What were we saying about common sense?”

  Vince glared.

  Billy slapped a palm on Vince’s shoulder. “I’m prayin’ for you pastor.” He shook his weary head. “Yer gonna need it.”

  ~*~

  Vince grasped the hand of the last congregant in the line after service. He blew an exhausted sigh and headed toward the offices. Lately, his job seemed more wearying than ever. The same faces came in and out of the doors. No new souls saved. No additional lives recovered. No cries of joy in heaven for the newly found. What a let down from his first two years. Pastor John believed his sermons had increased the membership one-hundred percent, which prompted the building of additional space in the sanctuary.

  Amit stood in front of him as if to block his steps. He looked awful dapper in his suit and tie. Vince hadn’t expected the man to come to services when he started working on the janitorial staff. He just wanted to provide a job to someone from The Home. It was part of his plan to help those with special needs.

  “For de revelation awaits un appointed time; it speaks of de end and will not pwoove false.” Amit’s eyelids fluttered. “Dough it lingers, wait fo’ it; it will certainwy come and will not deway.”

  Vince smiled at the man, then realized he’d quoted from Habakkuk rather than his usual Proverbs. Had he finally moved onto another book?

  As if to answer the question Vince hadn’t voiced, Amit said, “Wet your eyes wook stwait ahead, fix yo
ur gaze duwectly before ou—Pwovers 4:25.”

  “Yes, Amit. You’re learning those well.” Vince was amazed at how he could memorize so much scripture word-for-word. It was kind of funny how the simple man had mostly chosen Proverbs to quote—the book of wisdom. He probably didn’t even know what the words meant. Still, Vince wished his parishioners took as much time to learn scripture as Amit did.

  Amit tugged at the lapels of his crisply ironed navy suit jacket displaying a proud smile, and walked away.

  Fix your gaze directly before you. The words fluttered in Vince’s mind for some reason. Wait for the appointed time. A shiver rippled through him. He shook his head and walked on through the hallway.

  Is this all there is, Lord? His heart cried out. Was his usefulness waning? Would he only preach to the choir now? He wanted to do more. He’d spent years at his old haunt, The Dock Bar and Grill, hoping to recover an old friend from his former lawless life. But though they tolerated him—and his profession—it came more in the form of teasing than it did movement toward any real faith of their own. Vince knew these things took time, but somehow—today—it felt meaningless. Like it wasn’t enough.

  His thoughts ran to Cass again, and her lack of presence in the pews. Her mom was there with Cass’s kids, which only made the pew seem more empty. The hole in his chest grew wider, knowing she’d never forgive him. There was nothing he could do to cleanse what he’d done to her. He’d betrayed her in the worst possible way. Led her to believe in him—in them—only for her to discover it hadn’t been real. Or at least that’s what he’d tried to tell himself back then. It had only been a game. One that had left him less in control of his feelings than before it had started. What he’d done to her that night was unforgivable.